{"id":7846,"date":"2010-07-23T07:15:38","date_gmt":"2010-07-23T11:15:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=7846"},"modified":"2010-07-23T06:36:33","modified_gmt":"2010-07-23T10:36:33","slug":"behind-the-sense-of-the-world","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2010\/07\/behind-the-sense-of-the-world\/","title":{"rendered":"Behind the Scrim of the World"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/object><\/p>\n

[See the note at the end of this post for info about the above song.]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n

Falling<\/strong><\/p>\n

Long before daybreak
\nnone of the birds yet awake
\nrain comes down with the sound
\nof a huge wind rushing
\nthrough the valley trees
\nit comes down around us
\nall at the same time
\nand beyond it there is nothing
\nit falls without hearing itself
\nwithout knowing
\nthere is anyone here
\nwithout seeing where it is
\nor where it is going
\nlike a moment of great
\nhappiness of our own
\nthat we cannot remember
\ncoasting with the lights off<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(W. S. Merwin [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

It is this admirable, this immortal, instinctive sense of beauty that leads us to look upon the spectacle of this world as a glimpse, a correspondence with heaven. Our unquenchable thirst for all that lies beyond, and that life reveals, is the liveliest proof of our immortality. It is both by poetry and through poetry, by music and through music, that the soul dimly descries the splendors beyond the tomb; and when an exquisite poem brings tears to our eyes, those tears are not a proof of overabundant joy: they bear witness rather to an impatient melancholy, a clamant<\/span> demand by our nerves, our nature, exiled in imperfection, which would fain enter into immediate possession, while still on this earth, of a revealed paradise.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Charles Baudelaire [source<\/em><\/a>; the above is the version at whiskey river<\/em>, a somewhat different translation])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

Scrim<\/strong><\/p>\n

I sit here in a shelter behind the words
\nOf what I\u2019m writing, looking out as if
\nThrough a dim curtain of rain, that keeps me in here.<\/p>\n

The words are like a scrim upon a page,
\nObscuring what might be there beyond the scrim.
\nI can dimly see there\u2019s something or someone there.<\/p>\n

But I can\u2019t tell if it\u2019s God, or one of his angels,
\nOr the past, or future, or who it is I love,
\nMy mother or father lost, or my lost sister,<\/p>\n

Or my wife lost when I was too late to get there,
\nI only know that there\u2019s something, or somebody, there.
\nTell me your name. How was it that I knew you?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(David Ferry [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Still, the intention is to make sense, not to discredit. It’s true that things aren’t always what they seem, but what they seem is always part of what they are. The man on the subway platform looking at the woman with her nose in a book is a critic: he is trying to figure out whether she is really reading, and hasn’t noticed him, or is just pretending to be reading, and, if she is just pretending to be reading, whether that is because she hopes he won’t approach her or because she calculates that he will. If he does approach her, though, on the theory that she is just pretending to be reading, the first thing he will say is, “What are you reading?” Appearance, mystique, aura, reputation: these are all aspects of the things that interest us, and they are as real as anything else. It is good not to be fooled, but there is a difference between being disenthralled and being disillusioned. Criticism that denies the subject its surface appeal is unsuccessful criticism, and if something doesn’t seem more interesting after it has been taken apart, then it wasn’t worth taking apart. The last word — though only the last word — should be one of appreciation.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Louis Menand, on historical criticism [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

Finally… the music behind the video at the top of this post is Jim Lowe’s 1956 hit, “Green Door,” which managed to get all the way up to the top of \u00a0the US charts in a year which also featured Elvis Presley’s “Blue Suede Shoes” and “Don’t Be Cruel.” (Wikipedia says it sat at #1<\/a> on the Billboard Top 100 Singles for three weeks — sandwiched in between those two. Elvis must have taken the month off.) It also became a big hit in the UK, for Frankie Vaughan, and has been been covered by a wide variety of performers (not all of them honky-tonk, rockabilly, and throwback acts) like Shakin’ Stevens<\/a>, The Cramps<\/a>, and Crystal Gayle.<\/p>\n

Considering it’s a funny little nothin’ of a song, it has quite a Wikipedia entry<\/a>… including the information that it supposedly inspired the 1972 “porn chic” film Behind the Green Door<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Here are the lyrics:<\/p>\n

Green Door<\/strong>
\n(by Bob Davie and Marvin Moore;
\nperformance by Jim Lowe and the High-Fives)<\/em><\/p>\n

(“tick-tock” sound throughout)<\/em><\/p>\n

Midnight, one more night without sleepin’
\nWatchin’ till the mornin’ comes creepin’
\nGreen door, what’s that secret you’re keepin’?<\/p>\n

There’s an old piano
\nAnd they play it hot behind the green door
\nDon’t know what they’re doin’
\nBut they laugh a lot behind the green door
\nWish they’d let me in
\nSo I could find out what’s behind the green door<\/p>\n

Knocked once, tried to tell them I’d been there
\nDoor slammed, hospitality’s thin there
\nWonder just what’s goin’ on in there<\/p>\n

Saw an eyeball peepin’
\nThrough a smoky cloud behind the green door
\nWhen I said “Joe sent me”
\nSomeone laughed out loud behind the green door
\nAll I want to do is join the happy crowd behind the green door<\/p>\n

[instrumental break]<\/em><\/p>\n

Midnight, one more night without sleepin’
\nWatchin’ till the mornin’ comes creepin’
\nGreen door, what’s that secret you’re keepin’?<\/p>\n

Green door, what’s that secret you’re keepin’?<\/p>\n

Green door!!<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And just for grins, here’s Fozzie Bear on The Muppet Show<\/em> in 1980 (episode 422<\/a>):<\/p>\n

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[See the note at the end of this post for info about the above song.] From whiskey river: Falling Long before daybreak none of the birds yet awake rain comes down with the sound of a huge wind rushing through the valley trees it comes down around us all at the same time and beyond […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,74,36,251],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-7846","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-music","9":"category-reading","10":"category-poetry-writing_cat","11":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-22y","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7846","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7846"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7846\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7850,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7846\/revisions\/7850"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7846"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7846"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7846"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}